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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/29089416">Nine Lives</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/Blaumeise/pseuds/Blaumeise'>Blaumeise</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Series:</b></td><td>Foxhill [6]</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Guns N' Roses</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Foxhill universe, M/M, Magical, Victorian</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>In-Progress</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2021-01-30</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2021-02-24</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-13 11:56:10</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Not Rated</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>4</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>7,473</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/29089416</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/Blaumeise/pseuds/Blaumeise</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>Another prequel. How Slash came to live with Axl.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Axl Rose/Slash | Saul Hudson</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Series:</b></td><td>Foxhill [6]</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Series URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/series/1980472</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>69</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>37</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>1. Chapter 1</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>This is pretty much only written because the Foxhill readers keep asking me and I thought, if you all want to know, you deserve to get it. :) </p>
<p>Just one warning: I admit that I do not feel this deep need to write this prequel, It's really mainly done on request. That means I'll update this in between writing other stuff and can't say how regular it will be. Also, I do not promise that I'll finish this. It's mainly just short scenes and timestamps for Axl and Slash and not a consistent story. But it has the benefit that I might get a better feeling for Slash, soooo. Here it is.</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Being a cat had its benefits. Cats were small, fast, secretive. They came with their own season-appropriate wardrobe, a place to sleep was easy to find, and mice and rats were everywhere and too stupid to escape. </p><p>Having nine lives was another benefit, one I had always counted on, but at the moment it looked as if I was burning through them faster than I liked. </p><p>Whittlingsfield was one of the smaller ports, not the place I usually used to change ships, but I hadn’t been happy with my last employer and was on the look for something new. As nothing suitable had come up right away, I had spent a few nights with this lovely calico girl. Maybe I had still been a bit lost in thoughts, dwelling on the hedonism of the last days, and on my way back to the port – bam – I got hit by a carriage. </p><p>Yes, mice were everywhere and yes, they were stupid, but with a broken hind leg, I wasn’t fast enough to get them. Living out of waste piles soon became unappetizing and the January nights made life harder than I liked. In addition to the broken bone, I had suffered an ugly gash along the thigh and the wound was developing an infection. </p><p>My stomach rumbling, my leg hurting, running a fever while my fur turned ratty from lack of grooming, I hobbled through the streets. My calico girl, no longer in heat, treated me like she had never seen me before and the other cats I met were not keen on the new addition to the neighbourhood. Yards were guarded by dogs and house owners chased me with brooms and shovels off their property. </p><p>The smell of chicken lured me towards another yard. I managed to squeeze through a hole in a fence and my hopes flared up. An egg or two would be nice, I thought, and maybe I found an unlocked shed to spend the night. </p><p>Unfortunately, the coop was secured with a chain and a lock, and my chances dwindled once again. But then I noticed that the backdoor to the house was open. I felt for the presence of the owner, but nothing was close. I sneaked into the house. This was a magical community and how long I managed to hide depended on from how far away my unwilling landlord could sense other magical beings. But if I was lucky, I would find something to eat and maybe toss in a few hours of sleep in the cellar. </p><p>My nose led me to the kitchen. The door stood ajar. Not that a door handle was a problem for me, but jumping on a broken leg was not my idea of fun. I squeezed inside and smelled … milk. A jar full of milk stood on the kitchen table. I bit down on the pain and hopped first onto the bench, then onto the tabletop and then I got up on my one good hindleg and drank. Milk. It was sweet and rich and creamy. I hadn’t had more than a few sips when I heard footsteps in the corridor, followed by a magical presence. I decided a few more sips were worth being grabbed by the scruff and tossed back outside and drank faster.</p><p>“What the hell…,” it was a woman. A beautiful woman. I may be starved and hurt and feverish, but I was not that beside myself that I wouldn’t notice. Red hair framed a pale face and if I hadn’t been gulping milk like my life depended on it – which it did, if I was honest – I would have been enchanted by the smatter of freckles over her nose. </p><p>I had emptied the jar to a point where I would have to tip it over for more and so I stopped and checked my options for escape. She had closed the door and leant against it. Bummer. </p><p>“Hey, Kitty,” she said. “Where are you coming from, hm?” </p><p>Her voice was friendly, her expression surprised, but not disgusted. Maybe she liked cats. Some people did and if she was one of those, this might be my chance for food and rest until I had recovered enough to go on my merry ways. </p><p>She tilted her head and frowned a little. She had spotted my dilemma. “Let me have a look at your leg?”</p><p>I decided that, yes, I would risk it and when she approached me slowly, I stayed where I was. What other options did I have? Run through the kitchen and play hide and seek? She reached out carefully, touching the side of my face first, running a finger along my jaw, over my ears, down my spine. I shivered. Her touch was light and non-threatening and stopped somewhere above my leg. </p><p>“That’s one ugly slash you've got there,” she said. “You wait here and I get a few supplies and then we’ll take care of this. How does this sound, hm? Slash? Stupid name, sorry. I’ll think of a better one later.”</p><p>She left, closing the door behind herself, but I had long decided to take my chances. I used her absence to tip the jar and drink a bit more milk and licked my whiskers clean when she returned with a basket full of things. She rolled out a blanket and just when I thought I was supposed to sit on it, she grabbed me by the scruff of my neck and pressed me down onto the towel. </p><p>So much for taking my chances. I fought and kicked, which was hell on my leg. I tried to scratch her and bite her, but she was damned quick. Before I knew what was happening, she had wrapped me into the towel. What was she going to do? Drown me? Oh God, that was a real possibility. I screamed in anger and fear. My front legs were pressed against my belly and she laid my bundled-up self onto the side while he tied off the binds. I tried to roll onto my back and kick, but she just pressed me down with one hand. </p><p>“Sorry for this, Slash,” she said. “But it’s going to hurt and I’m not going to let you scratch me.”</p><p>Oh, I realized. That. She didn’t know that I was an intelligent cat. Even magical people were usually not able to distinguish between a normal cat and a shapeshifter, so I was not surprised. My heart was still beating a bit fast, but instead of fear, I felt mortification. I had been caught and wrapped into a towel like a stupid animal. Humiliated to the core I stopped my struggles. </p><p>“Good kitty,” she cooed while she freed the hurt leg out of the swaddle wrap. </p><p>She was careful. And skilled. It didn’t take her long to clean and dress the wound before she tied my leg to a splint. But when I thought that my indignity was over, I had been mistaken. She lifted me off the table and settled me in her lap. </p><p>“Now, Slash, don’t bite me,” she said. </p><p>She bowed over me and I thought that it would be nice to press my face against her breasts. Would she let me? No. Instead, she took the back of my head in an iron grip and forced my jaws open with practiced pressure on the joint. Never had I felt as humiliated as now, that I sat on this beautiful woman’s lap with my mouth wide open. With her finger, she smeared a bitter paste onto the back of my tongue, and when she let go of my head, I had no other choice than to swallow. </p><p>“Good boy, Slash,” she whispered and petted me. She smelled nice, exotic spices with something sweet and flowery. Soap, I assumed. </p><p>I was almost sad when she sat me on the floor. But she also ended my disgrace and freed me out of the towel. </p><p>“No more jumping now,” she said. “Let’s have a look if we find something to eat for you.”</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0002"><h2>2. Chapter 2</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>I spent the night on a folded blanket in a basket in front of the warm oven. It was easily the most comfortable bed I had had in years. On most ships, I was left to find my own sleeping accommodations and they were hardly as luxurious as this. The only drawback was that, as I was prohibited from going outside – ridiculous, as the splinted leg held up well enough – my landlady had settled me with a box of sawdust. I was not a fan of those. Not at all. But what could I do? The backdoor was always locked and opening a window would have given me away. </p>
<p>When the kitchen door opened the next morning, I expected the beautiful woman, but instead, a man appeared to serve my breakfast. He looked very similar, so I assumed a sibling instead of a husband. I was still confused because I hadn’t noticed a second person in the house, so far. A dangerous slight on my side. </p>
<p>She had told him the moniker she had given me because he called me ‘Slash’ as well. I didn’t mind. I had been Bob, Tommy, Devil, Sooty, and once I had been Tinkerbell. Humans like to give us names and as long as they deliver them with a bit of cream and a few scratches behind the ears, we tend to suffer them. </p>
<p>I had just finished my meal – mashed potatoes in gravy – when I was brutally grabbed and lifted into the air. Really, what was wrong with these people? I struggled, but he was just as skilled in cat-catching as the woman had been, and when he settled me on his lap, opened my mouth, and applied the disgusting paste, I realized something else: he smelled just like the woman. He tasted like her, too. </p>
<p>Not two beings smell the same. They just don’t. My nose may not be as efficient as a dog’s, but we are very well able to distinguish between different people if they grab us and squish us against their bellies. This man and the woman were the same person. </p>
<p>I was so occupied with this riddle – I had never heard about gender-shifters ever – that I forgot to struggle and just smacked on the paste. It was disgusting. A bit of cream to make it go down easier wouldn’t go amiss. </p>
<p>“You know what’s good for you, huh?” He – she – he.. she, I decided, said. “I always wanted a cat.” </p>
<p>She didn’t sit me down right away but kept petting me. Her fingers were indeed skilled, I noticed. She knew how to deliver a good massage, and before I knew what I was doing, I started purring. It pleased her. </p>
<p>“What do you say? Should I keep you?”</p>
<p>‘By all means,’ I thought. ‘At least until I’m back in shape. Then it will be good-bye. But you will always have a place in my heart.’ I admit the last was a lie. I may grow attached for a while, but leaving them was never a hardship. </p>
<p>“What will Izzy say?” she said. “Oh, who cares. He’ll have to deal, once he’s back. But I have to find a better name for you.”</p>
<p>I sincerely hoped Izzy, whoever he was, would deal. I was returned to my basket, and I didn’t complain. Exhaustion was all I had felt for days and I slept the day away, interrupted now and then by the ringing of a bell, or voices or more disgusting paste. </p>
<p>When I woke, it was dark outside and I felt a tad peckish. I stood up and looked for something she had left out, something easy to get my paws on, but there she was already. Ready to feed me, I was sure. Apart from all the manhandling, service was impeccable at this house. </p>
<p>She had been to the pump it seemed, for she carried a bucket of water which she heated on the stove. Hopefully, she wouldn’t forget my dinner over doing the dishes or some other unimportant stuff. I rubbed myself against her legs, tail high, to remind her of my needs. </p>
<p>“Hungry?” she asked and tickled me between the ears. </p>
<p>I mewled. It was a ridiculous noise, but humans loved it. It caused them to run and do our bidding. </p>
<p>“In a minute, Slash,” she said. </p>
<p>She really wanted to do the dishes first. I would have to redact my opinion about the quality of service. Still, what could I do but wait? I pushed my head against her legs a few more times and considered increasing the volume of my protest, but I also knew that it was better to stay on the polite side this early in our relationship. She may be one of those who liked cats, but it was better not to push too hard. </p>
<p>The minute turned into several, but then my dish was there. I tasted mutton between the potatoes. Not my favorite, but I had not yet reached a point where I would deny any type of food. I finished my meal and wasn’t surprised when I was grabbed again. I didn’t struggle. It was pointless and the paste may taste horrible, but I was not stupid. I knew what medicine was, I just hadn’t personally encountered it yet. </p>
<p>I floated through the air, held in her hands, and expected to land in her lap when I realized my mistake. A huge tub of water had appeared on the table. I hovered above it for a moment and then descended towards its steamy surface. I spread my legs, tried to claw to the rim, but I was doomed. </p>
<p>“I know, Slash, I know,” she said while she dunked me into the water. “This is not your idea of fun. But to be honest, you smell like a waste bin and you’re sticky from God knows what.”</p>
<p>Yes, I know, I had neglected my grooming, but, goddammit, I had been sick! I would have taken care of it soon enough. I tried to climb out again, but she blocked my way with one arm across the tub while holding me down. I fought a bit more, just for the hell of it, but I already knew it was useless. I was soaped and washed and bathed and then wrapped into another goddamned towel and then I was carried out of the kitchen and into another room. It was not quite as nice as the kitchen – I am a cat, I like a good kitchen – but warm and full of books and comfortable furniture. </p>
<p>We settled on the couch, she with a book and me in her lap. At this point, the towel was only loosely wrapped around me and I was able to crawl out of it. She reapplied it, but as it did not restrict my movements, I tolerated it. Hesitantly I settled. Her free hand scratched me behind my ears. It was a pity she wasn’t the beautiful woman today, but I was not that picky. </p>
<p>A cat in heat was something special, the scent heavenly, but humans didn’t go into heat. The few times I had indulged in human sex, it hadn’t made much of a difference how they had looked on the outside. Yes, I liked them soft, but apart from that? Who cared, as long as it felt good? And this one had a pleasant smell.</p>
<p>I had just cuddled up to this nice-smelling woman-man and we had gotten really comfortable with each other when our intimate togetherness was disturbed. The bell I had heard all day long rang once more, followed by steps and door banging. </p>
<p>“Looks like the vagabond is back from his trip,” she said. I expected her to stand up and have a look, but she just stayed put, petting me even more if anything. “Wanna bet he’s tossing all his clothes around? He’s such a slob.”</p>
<p>Why did she tell me these things? I had no idea, but if this was “Izzy” who may or may not “deal” with my presence, I better stayed where I was, safely ensconced between legs and belly. </p>
<p>“Hey Axl,” somebody said while opening the door. “Do we …”</p>
<p>He stopped. I squinted from under my landlady’s hand at the person who stared at me as if I was a tiger. Izzy, it seemed, was not a cat person. </p>
<p>“What …,” he started. </p>
<p>“We’ve got a cat,“ Axl – humans liked names, so it was good that I could attach one to my landlady – said. “I found him in the kitchen. He is hurt. I don’t care if you agree or not, this is my house, and I say: we are keeping him. I’ll call him … Mercutio.”</p>
<p>“Mercutio,” Izzy said sounding about as astonished as I was. What had happened to Slash? Oh hell, who cared. I could just as well be Mercutio.</p>
<p>“Yes,” Axl repeated. “Mercutio. There’s stew in the kitchen if you’re hungry. Warm it up yourself, Lucy has already gone home.”</p>
<p>‘Lucy?’ I thought. There was somebody else around? Why hadn’t I noticed? How deep had I slept if somebody had come and gone without me noticing? </p>
<p>“Right,” Izzy said and closed the door on his way out. </p>
<p>I decided to avoid Izzy. It seemed prudent, somehow. Call it instinct. There was something about him that didn’t endear him to me. Something dark and unforgiving. He wouldn’t cuddle me in his lap and feed me medicine or force me into a bathtub. While disgusting and humiliating, those acts had been committed out of concern for my wellbeing and I could therefore appreciate them. Izzy, however, would toss me out into the cold without thinking twice. </p>
<p>What I hadn’t taken into account was that Izzy might seek me out. I had expected him to not care about me for as long as I kept out of his sight, but I had reckoned without my host. It took less than an hour until I was suddenly alone with him in the library. Where had Axl vanished to? I had been snoozing comfortably only to wake up alone with … him. </p>
<p>I stood up to take my leave, but the door was closed. Should I jump for the handle? So far, I hadn’t given away that I was able to open doors and I might need this ability at a later date. I decided to stay where I was. </p>
<p>Izzy approached me. He knelt down in front of me and reached out to … scratch me behind the ears.</p>
<p>“Good kitty, Mercutio,” he cooed. </p>
<p>Had I been wrong? Did he like cats after all? Something about his voice sounded all wrong. And, yes, just when I decided that I might hide under the sofa, he grabbed me by the scruff of my neck and held me up in the air. Once again, I was kicking and struggling and if I had dared, I would have shifted just to have enough strength to fight him of. </p>
<p>“Listen, Mercutio!” he spat. “I know what you are. And I know what type of game you’re playing. Not my house, so who am I to tell Axl who he can and can’t keep, but I tell you one thing. Mercutio! If you hurt him or steal from him or go behind his back or do anything I do not approve of, you will regret it.”</p>
<p>I hung limply in his grip. He knew what I was? How? What was this guy? So far, I had met maybe two people who had recognized what I was, everybody else took me for a cat! I started to get really scared. </p>
<p>“Don’t think I’m joking,” he said. “I will skin you alive and nail your mangy, flea-ridden pelt to the wall above my bed.”</p>
<p>I believed him. Dear God, I did. His free hand grabbed my tail and he pulled. I squeaked because at first, I thought he tried to tear it out, but he only held up a couple of hairs. </p>
<p>“If you think you can just run, think twice. I can trail you to wherever you are hiding. And I will, make no mistake. You can board a ship to bloody Australia and I will come and get you. You have no idea what I’m capable of.”</p>
<p>Wizard, I realized. If he was able to track me with a few hairs, he was a wizard. That made Axl a witch. That explained why she liked cats, at least. Witches were often fond of cats. </p>
<p>“So, to be clear: as long as you plan to … enjoy Axl’s hospitality…”</p>
<p>Not his, no, Axl’s hospitality. Yes, man, we were clear.</p>
<p>“… you will be a good, cuddly little kitten. And once that his healed,” he flicked a finger against my leg, “you will make yourself useful. Take care of the mouse problem in the chicken coop for example.”</p>
<p>When ‘this’ was healed, I would be on my merry way, thank you very much. </p>
<p>“Oh, and one last thing. Axl doesn’t deal well with being abandoned. So, when you decide to leave us, you will come clean.”</p>
<p>I … no. I definitely wouldn’t. </p>
<p>“Oh yes, you will.”</p>
<p>Could he read my mind? Was that possible?</p>
<p>‘Arrogant prick,’ I thought and watched his face carefully. ‘Jizzface. Dim-witted, half-assed excuse for a wizard. You couldn’t access your magic if it came in a bottle with a corkscrew and written instructions saying ‘turn clockwise.’’</p>
<p>No reaction. Either he was a damn good poker player or he couldn’t read my thoughts. </p>
<p>“So once more, just to make sure it gets a hold in your pitiful pussybrain: you want to leave us, and how will I cry when that day comes, you will shift and explain to Axl how you took advantage of his generosity. Then he can toss you out on your ass. You will not … let me repeat … you will not just head off to greener pastures one sunny morning and I’ll have to deal with him running through Foxhill and calling ‘Kitty, Kitty, Kitty!’ “</p>
<p>He put me down. Not dropped me as I had expected, but sat me down, careful to not jostle my broken leg. </p>
<p>“Nod if you got it.”</p>
<p>I nodded. I would have nodded if he had asked me to serve him in dutiful slavery for the rest of my days. I had no idea if he was bluffing or really able to trail me to Australia. </p>
<p>“Nod again.” He squatted down in front of me. “Twice. Just so we are clear.” </p>
<p>I did him the favour. At that moment the door opened and Axl was back. </p>
<p>“Really, Slash,” he said. “I leave you alone for two minutes and you jump off the couch. Did Izzy bother you?” </p>
<p>“Slash? I thought his name was Mercutio,” Izzy said.</p>
<p>“It is.” She … he.. she … Izzy had said he, so … he, I assume. Pity. I had hoped for the breasts to come back. They had looked nice and soft and I had counted on coping a feel soon. He picked me up and pressed his face into my fur. “Slash is his nickname.”</p>
<p>Izzy snorted. He pulled a book off a shelf and settled in one of the armchairs while Axl returned me to the couch. </p>
<p>“You don’t mind a cat, do you?” Axl asked. “I mean, not that I’ll care. We’ll keep him anyway. I just don’t want you to be at odds with each other.”</p>
<p>Izzy put down the book. “We’re all good,” he said. “If you want a cat, Axl, then you should have one. And this one looks perfect. Sweet, cuddly. Absolutely well behaved. He’ll be a pleasure to have around. I think he’d look cute with one of your bows around his neck.”</p>
<p>“He would, wouldn’t he?” Axl brushed a hand through my half-dried fur. </p>
<p>Normally I would have stretched out and enjoyed the massage, but I was still far too shellshocked. Bow? They wanted to tie a bow around my neck? </p>
<p>“But he will likely fight it off.”</p>
<p>Yes, I will!</p>
<p>“No, he won’t,” Izzy smirked. “Just make clear right from the beginning what you expect.”</p>
<p>“He’s a cat, Izzy, not a dog. He won’t care about what I expect.”</p>
<p>“I have the feeling, this one is different. He looks like a cat who will appreciate all the love and care you bestow on him.” </p>
<p>Did he have to stare at me like that? As if I was already a piece of tanned pelt over his bed? </p>
<p>“The pink one would go well with the black fur,” Izzy said. He was a sadist. Why did he enjoy tormenting me? “And maybe a little bell, to make sure he doesn’t scare the chicken.”</p>
<p>“He won’t go out for quite a while,” Axl replied and tickled me under my chin. “Do you think I should get him a collar?”</p>
<p>“Absolutely. With a name tag so that people can return him in case he gets lost.”</p>
<p>Axl smiled at Izzy. “You surprise me,” he said. “I really thought you would be against a cat. You always wanted a dog.”</p>
<p>“You took me up when I was at my all-time low,” Izzy said and now I got curious. But nothing more was forthcoming. “So, who am I to reject an injured cat? Would be hypocritical. Just … don’t grow too attached. You know these bastards. They come and go as they please.”</p>
<p>“Just like you,” Axl said. “And as you’re still here, Slash … ehm … Mercutio, might too. I’m sure you’ll have a lot of fun together.”</p>
<p>I had my doubts, but as Izzy gave me a long last look, I kept them to myself.</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0003"><h2>3. Chapter 3</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>When I was back in the kitchen prison for the night – Izzy the wizard had reminded Axl that some cats were able to open doors and shouldn’t he better lock the door – I considered my options. </p>
<p>The threads had been clear, but I doubted that he would kill me if I decided to climb out of a window and run. The problem was that I didn’t want to miss my warm basket, regular meals, and tender back rubs. If Axl didn’t resort to physical violence, he was the perfect caretaker. I have always been a hedonist and having him provide so promptly for all my needs was … just what I deserved. I would not allow some shady wizard to deprive me of my newfound bliss. </p>
<p>What was even his problem? At first, I assumed that he was Axl’s mate. Humans could be very particular in that area. It was hard to understand why they would go all rabid when their mate had some pleasant hours while they were occupied elsewhere, but I had seen it happen. Having Izzy the wizard go crazy because I had enjoyed the delights of Axl’s lap during his absence seemed plausible. </p>
<p>It was, however, not the case. I never smelled one of them on the other when they released me from my prison in the morning, nor did he seem bothered when I lounged with Axl on the couch in the evening. He didn’t even care when I buried my face between the … yes … breasts. They came back now and then and it was my evening’s delight to snuggle up between them. Axl would push me down to his lap and I would crawl back up until he admitted defeat and let me. At first, I had worried what Izzy the wizard would say, but to my surprise, it amused him to no end.</p>
<p>The expected sadism didn’t come forth either. Whenever Axl asked him to feed me, he might hold my dish in his hand a bit longer than was necessary and ask me to make pretty please with that insufferable smirk of his, but when I refused to play his game, he grew bored with it and handed me my meal. </p>
<p>It can’t be denied, however, that he did have a sadistic streak. There was, for example, that morning when he tied a ribbon around my tail and threatened me with unspeakable harm if I dared remove it. </p>
<p>“Gods, Izzy,” Axl said when he came in for breakfast and saw my disgrace. “Stop baiting the cat. Sometimes I think Slash has more common sense than you.”</p>
<p>But then he laughed and watched me over his porridge and I had to suffer the bow for an entire morning before he removed it.</p>
<p>Oh, and, yes, there was my name. It changed from day to day. I didn’t really care. Izzy the wizard insisted on calling me ‘Mercutio’ always pronouncing every single syllable and rolling his eyes while he did. Axl only called me Mercutio when he thought of it. Most of the time he called me Slash, but still insisted that my name was Mercutio. If I had been a dog, it would have driven me nuts, I suppose. Thank God I was a cat and cats don’t really care about such inanities. </p>
<p>Shit hit the fan, however, when Izzy the wizard one day came home with … a collar. Shiny red, very sturdy leather with a silver tag attached to it. ‘Mercutio’ was stamped onto it, together with Axl’s name and address. </p>
<p>“The leg is healed,” he said when he handed it to Axl. “You’ll have to let him go outside sooner or later.”</p>
<p>I agreed. I fully agreed. But that bastard played my game better than I did and one day I would scratch his face for it. A collar, I’m sure he knew that, came not only with a name tag, but also a huge problem attached. It prevented me from shifting. Removing a collar with paws was impossible. Shifting into human form while wearing a cat-sized collar would crush my windpipe before I had enough control over my hands to get rid of it. So, for as long as I wore that blasted thing around my neck, I was stuck in my cat’s body. </p>
<p>When Axl turned to me, the collar in his hands and a smile on his face, I ran. I escaped from the kitchen, fled into the library, and hid under the couch. Yes, my leg was healed, there was no denying it. </p>
<p>“Come out, Slash,” he coaxed. “Izzy is right, if you want to go out, you’ve got to wear it.”</p>
<p>No, I didn’t, I wanted to scream, as I pressed myself against the wall.</p>
<p>“Really, Izzy, no!” Axl said in that exasperated voice of his. “He’ll come out on his own, eventually.”</p>
<p>“He will come out now,” Izzy replied in that voice I really did not like. “And he will be a good little kitten and hold still while you fasten the collar around his neck.”</p>
<p>“I told you, he is not a dog,” Axl said. “Stop treating him like one. He doesn’t need a collar if he really doesn’t want one.”</p>
<p>“Yes, he needs one,” Izzy insisted. </p>
<p>“Why?” </p>
<p>“Because he can carry far fewer things when he wears it.”</p>
<p>“What?” Now Axl sounded really exasperated. “Have you been smoking opium again?”</p>
<p>No, he hadn’t. I could confirm that. Once I had gotten a whiff of the smoke off him, but that had been over a week ago. </p>
<p>“I’ll shoo him out. You’ll catch him. And then he gets the collar.”</p>
<p>Before I had a chance to come up with an escape plan, a broom appeared under the sofa. Did he really think I was scared of a broom? I wasn’t a real cat. I pressed myself against the wall again, flattening my ears and hissing at the broom. No, I wasn’t afraid. But I couldn’t avoid being swept out from under the couch either. Izzy the wizard pushed me out far enough to grab me. I scratched him, but he didn’t care, just dragged me out of my hiding place and held me up. </p>
<p>“Izzy!” Axl yelled. “Stop being mean to him.”</p>
<p>“Collar, Axl,” he said. “I promise, he’ll get extra scritches when we’re done here.”</p>
<p>From him? I’d rather die than have Izzy the wizard pet me. He had never tried so far. Instead, I had to admit, he had talked to me now and then. Like I was a sentient being instead of a stupid animal. It had been nice. He also had a sense of humour I liked, dry and dark and nasty and he made Axl laugh a lot. No, he wasn’t the sadist I had feared he might be. After that first day, he had never kicked me, hit me, manhandled me, like I had been sure he would. Once he had even poured a bit of whisky into my dish. </p>
<p>“Don’t tell Axl,” he had said and I had quickly slurped it up. </p>
<p>So why was he now so mean? Oh yes, because he still feared I might steal and run away and, he was right, as a cat, I wouldn’t be able to. </p>
<p>Izzy the wizard held me in that iron grip of his and I ceased my struggles. Axl buckled the collar around my neck, and I had to admit defeat. Cat it would be for the foreseeable future and that also meant, I would not be able to run away. To get the collar off, I would need help and whoever human came near enough to do so would read the address and return me. I had gotten caught in my own trap. </p>
<p>“Stop sulking,” Axl said when I retreated back under the couch. “It’s for your own good. Now you can go out and when you get lost, we’ll still get you back.”</p>
<p>‘As if,’ I thought. </p>
<p>Once again, I considered my prospects. I could just stay here and remain a cat. Forever. Not being able to shift might not sound like much, when I was a cat ninety-nine percent of the time anyway, but every now and then I felt the need to stretch my human arms. Sometimes, when I was living on board a ship, I only did it for a minute or two, but other times I walked around the ports as a human, enjoyed human food, mated a human, talked to a human and had them treat me like a human. I didn’t want to be only a cat for the rest of my life. It had its benefits, but it could get a bit dull now and then. </p>
<p>But for now, I was a cat. A cat that was allowed out of the house. I took a stroll through the neighbourhood and found out that Foxhill was a fantastic beat. Healed and healthy I fought a few battles about territorial rights and came home victorious, if a bit nicked now and then, only to have Axl cluck over me and apply salves and ointments and give me extra cream and cuddles. </p>
<p>Eventually, I came to the conclusion that, while Axl was warm and comfortable, the one I had to win over was Izzy the wizard. Izzy the wizard knew what I was and Izzy the wizard held my fate in his hand. Izzy the wizard was not a bad person per se. Just somebody to reckon with. I had to show him that I deferred to his superiority. </p>
<p>Only how did I do that? I wasn’t a dog and things like that didn’t come naturally for me. For a while, however, I might be able to pretend. What would he like? </p>
<p>He wasn’t keen on cuddling. He didn’t care if I was all cute and adorable and tossed corks through the kitchen either. Being my majestic, impressively decorative self didn’t make him stop in his tracks. Neither had he the tendency to admire my feline grace and beauty. </p>
<p>Izzy the wizard, I decided, could only be convinced by action. Which were? I thought back to our fateful first encounter and the list of rules I had received and forgotten right away. It took me a moment to recall them, but I managed.  What was behind them? Pleasing Axl, I decided. A lot of it had been about making Axl happy. Axl enjoyed cuddles and smiled when I tossed corks around and he definitely liked it when I posed on the counter in the shop so that customers could comment on my magnificence. I did my best to increase the incidence of these actions and carefully watched for Izzy the wizard’s reaction. </p>
<p>Would he understand what I was trying to accomplish? It was hard to say. He did seem diverted by my attempts to please. His grin lost a bit of its usual sardonic flavour and turned more amused, a little softer around the edges and now and then he winked at me as if we were sharing some secret. All right, we were.</p>
<p>Apparently, I grew on him, but not enough to remove the collar. I had to up my game. I dimly remembered him muttering something about being “useful”. Cats don’t have a sense of being “useful”. We hunt mice because it’s fun, that’s all. I had been too busy establishing myself as top cat of the neighbourhood to care much about hunting, but there was something at the back of my mind about mice and rats in the backyard. Sure, they were there. I had spotted them and also killed a few, but I hadn’t made a big issue out of it. Now I would show my worth. </p>
<p>I knew which one I wanted, the big fat rat that came every night around the same time. He was a nasty one. A full-grown rat was a worthy opponent for a cat and so far, I hadn’t felt up to get into a tussle with him. Tonight would be different. </p>
<p>I lay in wait and watched and there he was. Confident as if it was his yard and not mine, he strode right for the eggs. I was patient. I watched and waited for the perfect moment when he would return through the tiny gap at the back of the coop. There was his pointy nose. His long whiskers fluttered as he sniffed the air for danger. No chance, my friend. I had taken the direction of the wind into consideration and my vantage point was chosen perfectly.  I pounced and hacked my claws into his neck to pull him fully out of the hole. </p>
<p>He fought a good fight, I have to give him that. He delivered a few nasty bites to my face and one into my paw, but I did not relent, refused to let him go, and in the end, I showed him what a hunter I was. </p>
<p> </p>
<p>I waited for the perfect moment, breakfast, when I strode into the kitchen, jumped onto the table, and deposited my prey on Izzy the wizard’s plate. </p>
<p>He looked astonished, in awe of my superior skill, and I admit, I felt a touch of pride at his admiration. </p>
<p>“Oh God!” Axl exclaimed. </p>
<p>“You are the one who wanted a cat,” Izzy the wizard said. He picked my present up by its tail and held it into the air. “That’s quite the big one.”</p>
<p>“Toss it into the garbage! Now!” Axl said. </p>
<p>‘Garbage?’ I thought. ‘Garbage?’ But then I noticed my mistake. Axl had nursed me, cared for me, cuddled me, and saw to each and every one of my needs. And here I stood empty-pawed, without a present for him. He felt left out. </p>
<p>“Jesus, Slash, you’re full of bite wounds.” He stormed out of the room and I knew I was in for another round of cleaning and ointments. By now I was so used to it, I didn’t try to fight him off whenever he started on me. </p>
<p>“Good job,” Izzy the wizard said, still eying my present. “I know what you’re trying to do here,” he said. “You’ll still keep the collar for now.” </p>
<p>‘For now,’ he had said. It wasn’t what I wanted to hear, but I felt relieved. Time was sometimes a difficult concept for a cat, but ‘for now’ was different from ‘forever’. </p>
<p>“Leave any future rats on the doorstep,” he said and stood up to enjoy the one I had given him in peace. He could have shared with Axl, I thought, if he so much wanted his own one. But what did I know about humans and their weird habits? Next time I would bring them one each, so they didn’t have to yell at each other. </p>
<p>A week and several rats later, I had won, if not his heart, then at least Izzy the wizard’s trust. </p>
<p>We had just assumed our usual position on the couch and started the eternal process of me crawling up towards the soft roundness and Axl returning me to his lap. </p>
<p>“Do you think cats are liable to the spell?” he asked. </p>
<p>What spell? I thought. </p>
<p>“Don’t think so,” Izzy the wizard said. “He’s just a pervert.”</p>
<p>“Where’s the collar?” Axl suddenly asked when his fingers stumbled over my naked neck. </p>
<p>“I suppose he’s lost it.” </p>
<p>Axl sighed. “I’ll get him a new one.”</p>
<p>“I don’t think that’s necessary,” Izzy the wizard said without looking up from his book. “He knows his way around now. I’m sure he won’t get lost.”</p>
<p>No, I wouldn’t. At least not for now. Life was far too good where I was. Axl gave up and I settled on the best part of his body.</p>
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<a name="section0004"><h2>4. Chapter 4</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>I'm afraid, this is on hiatus for the moment. I don't have any more ideas. So, as some people feel that Slash is treated unfairly and as uncaring: He does care. Have the rest of what was supposed to turn into Chapter 4.</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Two months since I had moved to Foxhill and I yet had to see a single fox. </p><p>My day passed well ordered. I woke up around seven for dinner, cuddled with Axl on the couch, left the house around eleven, did my nightly work, deposited my prey as instructed, and climbed up to the first storey to mewl in front of Axl’s bedroom window until he let me in. He would complain about my dirty paws and shoo me right out into the corridor. I would return to the kitchen, sleep until morning, and wake up in time for breakfast. </p><p>Daytime was spent either sleeping or impressing customers with my majestic presence. Why I was still doing this, even after my collar had turned into a thing from the past, I couldn’t say. Maybe it had turned into a habit. Cats are creatures of habit, after all, so maybe all the behavioural patterns Izzy the wizard had forced onto me had turned into exactly that: a habit that was difficult to shirk. </p><p>Oh God, he had trained me!</p><p>The first time I truly realized that something was wrong with me, I was alone with Axl in the kitchen. Izzy the wizard was on one of his trips and Axl was sad. He didn’t like it when Izzy the wizard did not show up for several days. I knew it because he had told me. When people consider you to be a stupid animal, they tend to pour their heart out and sometimes Axl did just that. </p><p>To cheer him up, I fetched a piece of paper out of the kindling stack and tossed it around. It never failed to make him smile, but this evening, he went a step further. He took a long twig, tied a piece of string to its end, and fastened the scrap of paper to the string. Then he let it hop over the floor. </p><p>Dutifully I chased it around, jumped into the air when he pulled it up, but made sure he won the game every time. Let’s be honest here: I was faster than Axl, I could have easily torn the prey off, but the aim of the game was not to win, but to make him happy. </p><p>And that was when I suddenly stopped and sat back. Axl let the paper mouse hop in front of me, but I was thinking. Why the hell was I doing this? Izzy the wizard was not at home and it was unlikely that Axl would give him a full report of my efforts upon his return. I could just as well go to sleep instead of behaving like an eight-week-old kitten for the amusement of a lonely witch. </p><p>“Come on, Slash,” he coaxed and the paper mouse became a paper fly that danced through the air. </p><p>He looked hopeful, trying his best to make the bait’s movement enticing enough for me to join him in play again. A game he thought he was performing for my amusement when in fact I was performing it for his. I should probably consider it from a more philosophical angle, but then I noticed how Axl’s movements faltered and his expression turned disappointed. </p><p>“Not in the mood anymore?” he asked. </p><p>Oh, what the hell, I thought and pounced. The smile was back, the paper mouse danced and Axl was happy. Yes, Izzy the wizard had trained me into a new habit. One day I would kill that bastard.</p>
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